Game of Love
by Ziva- Zia- Z
Summary: "'Til death do us part..." Little did they know that such simple words, said as children during play, would ultimately seal their fate. Using a couple of their parents' rings, Tim & Ziva, childhood friends growing up in Israel, hold a pretend wedding ceremony in an abandoned synagogue, unaware of the repercussions their little game has for their lives. Full summary inside. McGiva.
1. Chapter 1

**Game of Love **

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Summary: ****"'Til death do us part..." ****Little did they know that such simple words, said as children during play, would ultimately seal their fate, not only then, but years later. Using a couple of their parents' rings, Tim and Ziva, childhood friends growing up in Israel, hold a pretend wedding ceremony in an abandoned synagogue, unaware of the repercussions their little game has for their lives. Thinking nothing of the words or actions, they later part ways as teenagers, only to reunite years later as adults at NCIS. Unknown to them, someone was watching that long ago day, listening, and took their 'fake wedding' _very_ seriously. McGiva. **

**A/N: Hey guys, it's Licia. I'm working on Zani and Ev's past lives story- reading through what they'd written and going over the various chapters not posted for mistakes, grammar, sentence structure... you get it. I was originally an English major before I switched to medicine... um, anyway, I'm not gonna update that _quite_ yet- I'm still working on a couple of the chapters, but this is something I wrote on the back of an envelope last night before I went checked on Zani and Ev and then curled up on the sofa with a book, which was promptly abandoned when I fell asleep mid-read. **

**Um, anyway, I figured I'd post this here, see what you guys think... I don't think either Ev or Zani would mind... and I will get back to theirs as soon as I can. I just have to check on Zani today, and that's going to be a hassle, since she fights me at every turn. It's a combination of the everything that's making her react like this... so I might not get that story updated until afternoon, depending. **

**Funny, I remember Zani telling me once how addicting writing fan fiction can be... drugs? Sure. Alcohol, gambling? Absolutely. But fan fiction? Highly doubt it. **

**_Past Lives_ should be updated soon, but it all depends. **

**Okay, well, enjoy.**

**- Licia**

_Be'er Sheva,_

_Israel,_

_1985_

The sun beat down hard on the desert sands of igniting waves of heat to rise from the roads and dazzling fires of light to blind the sun from view. In the center of the Israeli city, cars moved down the streets, men and women walked the streets, headed to work or out for the day. It was June; school was out, and the children had the run of the city- to an extent.

Shouts followed the two children as they raced down the street, out of the city, towards the olive grove not far from town. "Come and get me!"

"Wait up! That is not fair!" The two children rushed managed to duck and dodge cars and people alike, laughter trailing behind. Eventually, they made it to the old building, sitting abandoned on the outskirts of the city. Once the center of Be'er Sheva, the old synagogue had since been abandoned after the Yom Kippur War. This old, abandoned part of the city was a child's paradise- one endless game of hide-and-seek among the ruins of the older part of town. Eventually, they reached the old, burned out ruins of the synagogue, and after checking that they were alone, dashed inside.

It was simply the skeleton that remained of the old house of worship- the synagogue had burned down back during the war, and what remained- what had been saved- was simply the outer shell, a few columns inside that had once supported the ceiling, and the Tebah and the burnt Torah Ark. The platform of the Tebah was what the children liked best- they could lay on the platform and watch the clouds from "inside" a building- their very own planetarium.

Eventually, the child stopped, sitting on the steps that led to the platform, facing each other. Both were out of breath, but smiling, excited for this new game. They had done everything under the sun since school had gotten out a week ago, from swimming at the beach to picking olives-

"Do you have it?" He nodded, reaching into his pocket and pulling something out. She watched as he opened the white scarf, revealing a simple gold ring with a tiny pearl in the center. She gazed. "It's so pretty!" He grinned, happy he'd managed to get out of the apartment without his mother noticing.

"Did you bring yours?" She quickly pulled something out of the pocket of her capris- one of her father's ties and a ring similar to his- a gold band with a small pearl set center. He met her gaze, biting his lip.

"Now what do we do?" He thought a moment, before taking the scarf and draping it over her head.

"There. Your veil." She then took the tie, wrapping it around his neck and tying it in a bow.

"And your tie." She replied, laughing. But they soon fell into silence. "Now what?

They'd been playing this game for the last couple days- imitating her older brother and their parents, watching the adults and doing what they did. Flirting, dating, pretending to get engaged... all in an elaborate game of 'house.' The two children- only a few months apart in age- stared at each other, unsure of what to do or say. A moment passed, before he finally said,

"Well, how do people get married in Israel?" The girl thought a moment, trying to remember her Aunt Nettie's wedding, a couple month prior.

"There was a big canopy... and... they faced each other-" She stopped, watching as the boy grabbed the sheet that had been placed over the floor behind them, to protect against broken glass. The stairs they sat on soon became their small cave, hiding them from any lurking behind them.

"Now what?"

She watched him sit back down, thinking, before noticing the backpack he'd brought; their books and a few toys were inside, as well as a couple pastries they'd bought from the baker before fleeing. "What do people in America do when they get married?"

He shrugged; the last wedding he'd been too had been his cousin's- he'd been the ring-bearer, while his little sister had been a flower girl; but here, they had neither bearers nor flower girls, nor any of the other things that had been at his cousin's wedding. "A priest recited a bunch of stuff that they had to say back to him, and then... they exchanged rings."

"What did they have to say?" The boy pursed his lips, trying to remember.

"Um... that they... promised to... be faithful and... love each other forever and ever and... that they would help each other when they got sick... and be together even if they were poor... and... 'til death do they part."

"Okay." The girl nodded, resolute. "Do I have to say it to?"

"Well, my cousin Sophie said it to Bobby so... I guess."

Slowly, they took hands, as both had seen done before, and after a moment, she spoke. "I promise to... to be faithful and love you forever and ever and... help you when you get sick and... be together even if we are poor and... what was the last part?"

He grinned, blushing. "'Til death do us part."

"Right. And 'til death do us part." She then slid the ring she'd taken from her mother's jewelry box onto his fourth finger, as she'd seen her aunt do, before allowing him to repeat the phrase and put his ring on her finger. Once they were done, they locked eyes. "What now?"

"My cousins kissed." He wrinkled his nose. "Can we skip that part?"

"But if we do not kiss, then we are not married..." She replied; it made perfect sense to her young mind. He sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Fine." Then, without a word, he leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. She giggled, doing the same. As they sat together, sharing their pastries, they were unaware of the person slipping out of the ruins of the synagogue, having watched and heard the entire conversation; completely unaware that they'd been simply playing a game.


	2. Chapter 2

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Sorry about the confusion, guys. I figured I'd_ try_ this whole... writing NCIS fan fiction thing... Ev told me earlier that I could post it to Zani's... um... profile, that's the word... sorry, I'm tired. Zani kept us both up last night...**

**So... this is just a little story I've decided to work on in between trying to decipher my brother's atrocious handwriting (I'm serious, it's not even chicken scratch, he might as well just sign his name with an X, because you can't_ read_ it) on _Past Lives_, and... it's mainly just to help get my mind off the crap my future sister-in-law is going through. There's only so much I can do for her, after all. But I got the okay from Ev to post this on Zani's profile, and he said when she gets back into writing, she'll want to finish writing it, but that I can get it started at least. **

**So this is... _my_ McGiva story for you all. Hope this chapter clears a little of it up for you. If you have any questions or confusion... don't hesitate to let me know. **

**- Licia**

**Thanks to Bookloverz22, Reader and sintija2001 for reviewing 1. **

Kathleen McGee looked up to see her son dash into the apartment, Ziva _Da_vid behind him. "What have you two been up to, loves?" She asked, handing each a glass of juice.

"Timmy!" Sarah McGee, the youngest of the two siblings rushed to her brother, holding out the picture she'd colored. Ziva and Timmy shared a glance, before he said,

"Ziva and I got married!"

A plate shattered, and Kathleen quickly knelt to pick up the broken pieces, before putting them in the trash as opposed to the cupboard. "Wh... what do you mean-"

"Mama? We were playing house." He replied, worried thanks to the look in her eyes. "We can't play house if we don't get married first."

A moment passed before she relaxed. "Playing house?" The children nodded. "Okay. Good. Well... go... go play." She watched the two quickly dash off to Timmy's room, Sarah trailing behind, her coloring book and crayons held tightly in her small fists. Once they were in Timmy's room, the two six-year-olds clambered onto the bed, collapsing among the dark blue blankets and pillows. There were posters of stars and space ships on the walls, as was typical with little boys; books littered the floor and were stacked haphazardly on the bookshelves. A moment passed, before Timmy glanced at his friend.

Ziva _Da_vid was a natural-born Israeli Jew; the oldest daughter and second child of Eli _Da_vid, a high-ranking officer in the Israeli Mossad. Unlike Tim's father, the young American Ambassador to Israel, Eli was focused more on serving his country than his family. Not to say that Timmy's father was entirely focused on his family- John McGee loved his family, sure, but he was a highly important man...

But of everyone in the David household- besides Ziva- Tim liked Rivka most. Ziva's mother was good friends with his own mother- she was kind and loving and friendly, so unlike Eli. Timmy always thought Rivka and his own mother, Kathleen, were cut from the same cloth- both sweet, both loving, both gentle. So unlike the men they'd married. The boy sighed; he was never going to be like his father, or Ziva's. If he ever got married, he'd be nice and loving and gentle, and spend more time with his family than at work.

"Timmy, picture!" He sat up as Sarah rushed into the room, having followed them. The four-year-old held the picture of Cinderella in her purple dress and green hair out to her older brother, but he rolled his eyes.

"I don't want it, Sarah. I already have a picture of Cinderella you colored for me." The girl's face fell, and Timmy sighed. He loved his little sister, but there were days when she got on his nerves.

"What is it?" Ziva sat up, scooting to the edge of the bed. The four-year-old held the picture out to her; she glanced at it and then at her. It was a drawing from a coloring book, of Cinderella dancing with Prince Charming, in a purple dress and green hair. "It is very pretty, Sarah." The younger girl beamed. "Can I keep it?" A moment passed, before Sarah nodded and skipped out of the bedroom, still holding tight to her coloring book and crayons.

The two older children shared a glance. She studied him; Timmy was her best friend. For some strange reason, she and the Ambassador's son had hit it off right away, that first day of school, when the teacher had introduced him to the class. He was three months older than her in age, not that Ziva cared. No, what she liked most about Timmy was the fact that he was different. He wasn't Jewish, or Palestinian, or fully American, even- his father was from America, but his mother had been born and raised in County Derry, Northern Ireland. In fact, Timmy himself had been born in Derry, as had Sarah, and it was partially because of the violence in the North that the family had moved to Israel- well, John's job had been the main reason, but still, when they weren't living in America, with John's mother, Penny, they were in Ireland, with Kathleen's family.

Timmy was sweet, and funny, and her polar opposite in personality, and yet, they got along perfectly. While other kids often picked on him because he was quiet, Ziva found that the quiet was just one aspect to his personality. Just as she wasn't always the troublemaker that teachers often made her out to be. After she folded the picture and put it in her pocket, she returned to laying among the pillows, staring at the ceiling- but then her gaze moved to the ring on her finger. It was pretty, and fit her hand just right. "Timmy?"

He joined her, staring up at the ceiling. "Yeah, Ziva?"

"You will be my best friend forever, right?"

He met her gaze, giggling. "The bestest."


	3. Chapter 3

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: This chapter skips ahead...**

**Thanks to Mavis Scarlet, and Sazzita for reviewing 2, and Reader aka Sun Samuri for reviewing 1 and 2.**

_Be'er Sheva,_

_Israel_

_1989_

"I don't understand. _What do ye mean she jus' disappeared? Where the 'ell did she go?" _

He leaned against the door frame, listening as his mother spoke on the phone to her older sister, Siobhan. He swallowed, sinking to the floor; it was about the turmoil taking place in Ireland- the same turmoil that had been taking place when he was born, before he was born, before his _mother_ had been born...

But this was personal.

Though he didn't know the circumstances, he knew that the conversation had to do with his Aunt Eileen- Kathleen and Siobhan's younger sister. Just as the last phone call had had to do with his grandfather, two years prior. James Gallagher, his maternal grandfather, had been killed in the Remembrance Day bombing, back in eighty-seven, on November eighth, when the IRA had set off bombs near the centopah- the war memorial in the center of Enniskillen, the town his grandfather had been born in.

Though he was only ten, he'd seen and heard a lot of violence in his young life-

"Timmy?" Ziva looked up from the book she was reading, Kathleen's voice getting louder and higher. She climbed off the bed, going to him. "What is wrong?" He met her gaze, tears misting his eyes.

"We're gonna_ 'ave t'_ go back _t' Ir'land._"

"Why?" She sat beside him.

"Because..." But he never finished, thanks to the bedroom door opening all the way. The two ten-year-olds looked up to see Kathleen standing in the doorway; her eyes were red and her face was blotchy. Sighing, she knelt to their level.

"_Ye 'eard_, Timmy, love?" Her voice was soft, strained.

He nodded. "_'twas Aintin_ Siobhan, right, _Mams_?"

Kathleen sighed, nodding once. Ziva watched the pair, hearing the lilt of the Irish in Timmy's voice. She'd never noticed it before- though the others in their class had, and made sure to make fun of him for it. Maybe she hadn't noticed it because she cared more about Timmy than an accent. But now that she heard it... it was cute.

"_Aye_." He met his mother's gaze, calmly, quietly. It took a moment, as Kathleen reached out, taking his hand, a shaky breath drawing into her lungs. "Aunt Eileen_ 'as_ disappeared. No one can find her. _Garda_ think _'twas_ the IRA _tha'_ took her."

"_Bu' _why? Aunt Eileen did _nothin'_ wrong." Kathleen reached out, caressing his cheek.

"I know, love. Eileen _couldna_ _hur' _a fly."

"Will we have to go back?" He didn't notice the look Kathleen gave Ziva; sniffling, she shook her head, reaching over and taking the girl's hand.

"No. _No'_ until they find a body."

"_Bu'_... they _nev'r_ will. They _dinna_ find Uncle _Pet'r_ when_ 'e_ disappeared-" She leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, stopping his words.

"I know, Timmy, love. _Bu'_ we _mus' r'member_; no body-"

"- means they could still be alive." He whispered, repeating the same mantra his mother often used when a loved one or friend went missing in the North. Kathleen nodded, giving them both small smiles.

"_Tha's righ'_. Now, are _ye 'ungry_? Ziva?" The girl nodded, and Kathleen got up, slipping back into the kitchen, glad for the distraction that making lunch would require for her family. Once she was gone, Timmy got up, climbing onto the bed and turning his back to the door. Ziva watched, unsure of what to do or say-

But the soft sobs that reached her ears soon broke her heart, and she stood, climbing onto the bed to face him. "Timmy-"

"Leave me _'lone_, Ziva." He whispered, shifting to face away from her. She swallowed, reaching out to touch his shoulder, but he shrugged her off.

"Timmy, I am sorry." When he didn't reply, she took a chance, scooting closer and laying her head against his back. He tried squirming away, but she wrapped her arms around him. "I am supposed to help if you get sick-"

"I don't _wanna_ play _tha'_ game, Ziva." He replied, pushing her hands away. She sighed.

"I am just trying to help." A moment passed, before he shifted back to face her. When she met his gaze, the emerald orbs she loved so were filled to the brims with tears; tears that quickly slid down his cheek with each blink. "What is Eileen like?" He sniffled, thinking.

"_Aintin_ is... _eigh'teen_. She... dances... does..." But he shook his head, bursting into tears. Without a word, Ziva wrapped her arms around him, as he buried his face in her shoulder. Clearly, Eileen meant more to the family than words could ever convey. Ziva sighed; she hated seeing Timmy so upset, and she knew that nothing she said would ever make him feel better, so she didn't even try to think of something to say. Instead, she just let him cry, tightening her hold on him.

An hour later, after finally wrangling Sarah into putting her toys away and washing her hands, which was a hassle in and of itself, Kathleen called the kids to lunch. Sarah, of course, came dashing into the room, but her brother and Ziva didn't. After making sure Sarah was seated, she set the dishtowel down and headed towards Timmy's room in the back of their small apartment. "Timmy? Ziva? Lunch is ready-"

She opened the bedroom door, determined to tell them both to put the books or board games away and come eat, when the sight before her stopped her in her tracks. Both children were curled up on the bed, arms around each other, sound asleep. She made her way to the bed; tear tracks could be seen on her son's cheeks and the shoulder of Ziva's t-shirt was wet. It was highly evident that the news about Eileen had hit her son hard.

After a moment, Kathleen grabbed the throw that usually went on the end of her son's bed and tucked it around the children, deciding that lunch could wait.


	4. Chapter 4

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: There's a reason this chapter skips ahead...**

**Thanks to Mavis Scarlet for reviewing 3.**

_Tel Aviv,_

_Israel_

_1995_

The halls of the high school were crowded, not that he minded. He'd managed to find a quiet corner where he could catch his breath. It wasn't that he minded being in Tel Aviv, but it was such a huge change from Be'er Shiva... and honestly, if he'd had his say, he'd be back in Ireland, going to school in the Bogside, where his cousins and his family were. But he especially wanted to be there now that peace talks were going on between Ireland and England-

He sighed, pulling his walk-man out of his bag and slipping in a CD. Thank God school was out; he didn't think he could take another hour of listening to teachers drone on about math, history, English. He'd become fairly fluent in Hebrew; and why wouldn't he, he'd been here since he was about... six or so.

_Ten years._ He shuddered. His family had spent the _last ten years_ in Israel. He and Sarah were teenagers now; they had arguments with their parents, almost regularly, did their homework when they were supposed to and stayed out most nights without coming in until two in the morning, always with consequences. Like most teenagers, they rebelled, drinking, trying drugs, but never doing anything serious. He now had his license- which meant a nice slice of freedom-

"Hey Timmy." He looked up, removing the headphones from his ears, struggling to suppress an eye roll. Oh, yeah he'd forgotten about the one little hitch in getting his license.

Ziva.

Though they were both sixteen- well, Tim was. Ziva had another... two months to go, if he remembered correctly. So, since he was the oldest of the pair, it was his job to give her a ride to school. Sadly for him, as he saw it, they all went to the same high school- with the exception of Ari, Ziva's older brother, who by now was away at college in England. "Do you _'ave_ to call me_ tha'_, Ziva? We aren't ten-years-old anymore."

"Sarah still calls you 'Timmy.'" She replied, shifting her bag on her shoulder. This time, he didn't suppress the eye roll.

"_Tha's_ because she's my sister. You're _jus'_ my friend." Hurt flashed briefly in Ziva's dark gaze, but she pushed it aside, twisting the ring on her finger.

"But you said-"

"Are we ready to go?" The two turned as Talia and Sarah joined them; both two years younger than their older siblings, the girls had become best friends almost instantly. With Sarah's Snow White complexion and Talia's Jasmine-like beauty, the girls often got hit on and asked out at school- something both Tim and Ziva instantly stopped. And though Talia often stayed at home with Ziva, trying to keep peace- for the youngest often played peacekeeper in her family- the McGee siblings spent more time sneaking out of the house than staying in. Kathleen tried hard to keep a short leash on both her kids, but with the violence towards her family in Ireland, the stress of her husband's job and constant "abandon-ness" at home, and the siblings' longing to finally be free of Israel for lusher, greener, more Irish pastures...

Well, Kathleen was about to the point of putting bars on the windows and chaining both her kids to their beds to keep them under control. But since it was illegal to do such a thing, the _Da_vid sisters were Kathleen's next best thing. Sarah and Talia had so much in common, and Tim and Ziva were the best of friends... so no one could blame Kathleen for hoping Rivka's oldest daughter would keep her son occupied, in more ways than one.

Not that Tim looked at Ziva that way.

Lately, he found her as more of a nuisance than anything. She followed him around everywhere, talked constantly, and seemed to become exceedingly possessive whenever anyone else- especially another girl- came near him. In short, she was driving him up the wall.

"Yeah. You two ready?" The girls nodded. "Ziva? Ziva!" The older girl's head snapped up, her gaze shifting to the ring he was wearing on his fourth finger. A gold band with a small pearl- "You ready?"

"_Ken_."

Once they'd piled in the car, Ziva slipping conveniently into the front passenger when Sarah and Talia stopped to argue over something, Tim took the cd out of his walk-man and popped it into the player. The nineteen-eighty-four Camaro Z-twenty-eight had been a gift from his parents for his sixteenth, something Sarah was exceedingly jealous of. "So, where are we going, Timmy?" Sarah asked, once the doors had closed and he'd started the car.

"Where do you think, Sarah?" He replied, turning up the volume slightly; Sarah groaned from the backseat at the familiar drum beats. She kicked the back of Ziva's seat, sending the older girl jumping in surprise.

"Seriously, Timmy? U-Two? I hate them."

"What is a U-Two?" Ziva asked, glancing back and forth, between the McGee siblings.

"It's just some stupid-"

"It's an Irish rock band." Tim said, cutting off his sister. Sarah rolled her eyes, glancing at Talia.

"Irish do... rock?" Talia asked, turning to Sarah.

"Never mind. It's one of Timmy's little... weird things..."

"_'ey_, it's not weird! They're like... one_ o' th' bes'_ bands in Ireland." He replied.

"And we haven't been back _t'_ Ireland since we were kids." She snapped. The David sisters shared a glance; Ziva sighed, settling back and listening to the McGee siblings argue. Though they'd been in Israel nearly ten years, Tim still retained his accent, and it made him stand out in the high school they attended. He'd learned to take the teasing about his accent in stride, and Ziva found that he even seemed to like being different. Of course, there were some things the McGee siblings did with the children of the others who also worked at the embassy- such as attend fancy functions and galas and anything major that would be seen on international TV.

"Well, I'd rather be back in Ir'land instead o' here." He muttered. Sarah groaned.

"Is this about that stupid embassy dinner we have to attend tonight?" She asked, picking at her cuticles. "You know I wish Daddy would let us bring dates, that way we wouldn't be shafted at the 'kids table' like we were last year. I'm fourteen, I shouldn't be sitting with a bunch of preteens."

"How do you think I feel, Sarah? I'm stuck playing babysitter to you all night. _Hey_!" He hit the breaks, and threw the car into park, turning to face her. "You kick my seat again, Sarah, and you're_ walkin' 'ome_!"

"Like _Mams_ would be happy with you just abandoning me on the side of the street in Tel Aviv-"

"You've lived_ 'ere_ ten years, you can find_ yer_ way _'round._" She glowered at him.

"What is wrong?" All three turned to Talia, who glanced between the McGee kids.

"What do you mean, Tali?" Ziva asked, confused. Tali pointed from Sarah to Tim and back.

"Well, we fight, Zivaleh, but not as much as them. Is there something wrong with them?" Ziva bit her lip.

"I think... this is just how Americans fight, Tali." She replied, glancing at Tim, but he didn't say a word.

"What the hell are you so pissed at, Timmy?" Sarah asked before Tali could ask another question. He narrowed his eyes.

"Why are you being such a bitch, Sarah? You start your period or something?" Ziva winced. In their household, such things as menstrual cycles weren't discussed openly, but privately, between a mother and daughter or sisters. But since the girls were now spending half their lives at their father's place and half at their mothers- with the very occasional when their parents would reconcile and move back in together- the girls usually went to Kathleen to talk, knowing she'd listen. But apparently, the McGee household was run very different from theirs.

Without another word, Tim turned around and started the car again-

"Actually, you know what, I think I'll walk home. That's for the lift, Timmy." And before he could do anything, Sarah had climbed out of the car, Tali following behind her. Clearly, the sisters had chosen sides, as Ziva had remained in the passenger seat.

"Aren't you going to get out too?" He asked, glancing at her. She reached over, taking his hand off the stick shift and squeezing gently.

"I like Sarah, but she is not my best friend." She struggled to ignore the butterflies erupting in her stomach. As they started off again, Ziva turned to him, adjusting the seat belt so it didn't choke her. "What is wrong, Tim? You have been... sullen and moody all day." He sighed, glancing at her. Taking a deep breath, he opened his mouth to speak, as the light they pulled up to turned green, and he began to pull out-

But Ziva heard nothing except the sound of a truck horn screeching, the crunch of metal, shattering of glass, and then the ever pressing scream of silence.


	5. Chapter 5

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

Someone switched the sound on, only the volume was up way too high. The colors too bright and the faces too close for her to make out. The whole picture was grainy. And then suddenly, the sound returned to normal.

She struggled to sit up, finding herself on the sidewalk in downtown Tel Aviv; the last thing she remembered was the flicker of sadness in Tim's beautiful green eyes as he glanced at her as they moved through the intersection- and then nothing. "Easy... easy, it's okay. You're okay." Someone was trying to hold her down.

Slowly, she turned; her neck was sore, and she hissed, reaching up. "Careful. You've got a bad case of whiplash." The woman beside her wore a white coat over her blue uniform. Ziva recognized her instantly as one of the _Hoveshes_- an emergency medical worker from the MDA, short for Magen David Adom, the emergency medics in Israel, similar to what they had in the United States.

"Where..." She quickly looked around, finding no sight of- "Where is Tim?"

"Who?" The woman asked, quickly shining a flashlight in her eyes to check her vision.

"Tim... he... driving..." The woman turned the light off once she was satisfied, and glanced over her shoulder. Ziva followed her gaze, unprepared for what she saw. Tim's car, twisted and mangled on one side, broken glass littering the street. Against the medical worker's firm hand, she climbed unsteadily to her feet, rushing towards it. The passenger side was undamaged- it was the driver's side that had taken the most heat. Her dark gaze quickly scanned the car.

_Where the hell is Tim? _

Her heart began to clench, the knots that accompanied it twisting her stomach into a poorly tied bow. She dug her nails into the palms of her hands, feeling the cold metal of the ring she wore dig into the flesh of her palm. She wheeled on the worker, tears in her eyes. "Where is he? My..." She stopped. "My friend. He... he was driving..." The woman nodded, seeing what Ziva couldn't say, but considered him as-

"He is being taken to Sourasky." She replied, nodding towards the ambulance. "You may go with him." Without a word, Ziva dashed towards the ambulance, calling for them to wait for her. Once the doors had closed behind them and they were off, she reached out from her seat beside him and took his hand.

"Will he be okay?" She mentally kicked herself for the tears in her voice. The man attending gave her a soft smile.

"He has a concussion; he may be out for a while, but he should be fine. We will be able to do tests to see if he has organ damage, and if he does not, all it will require will be a brief stay and some painkillers before he can head home."

"And if there is organ damage?" She asked, fearing the worst.

"Then we will operate, but let us not worry until we get there and the doctor sees him." She nodded, turning back to Tim. There was an open cut on his cheek, and he was bruised, but to her untrained eye, seemed okay. She didn't let go of his hand until they reached the hospital, and even then, it took several nurses to get her to let go of his hand and allow the doctors to take him into emergency.

And so, she sat, hands between her knees to keep the shaking to a minimum, lips pressed tight to keep the sobs at bay, eyes stinging with the burn of tears that begged to fall. She wasn't sure how long she sat there, but soon, her parents, Tim's parents, Sarah and Tali showed up. _"What happened? Ziva, wha' 'appened t' my son?" _

She soon found Kathleen shaking her, and the tears began to fall. "I do not know! I... we were driving into an intersection... the light had turned green... and then..." She swallowed thickly. "Tali and Sarah got out of the car before..."

"What?" It was then that Kathleen turned to her daughter as Rivka enveloped her oldest in a hug. "Sarah? Talk t' me."

The fourteen-year-old swallowed, glancing at Tali, who hung her head. "We were... arguing, Mams. T... Timmy and I... he... he told me I could walk home if I didn't want a ride..." So it wasn't _exactly_ the truth, but Sarah wasn't willing to tell her mother all of it. "So... so Tali and I... we got out and walked... and then we... we heard the crash..."

"Mrs. McGee?" Everyone looked up as a doctor came out to them, carrying a chart.

"How is he?" Ziva barely listened as the doctor explained in medical-speak the injuries and how long it would take for him to recover. Instead, she found herself twisted the ring on her finger, desperate to see Tim and apologize for whatever she'd said or done to make him mad at her. Her head snapped up.

"What?" The others all turned to look at her.

"I said that he needs to stay overnight, but that he can go home in the morning. He's very lucky he was wearing his seat belt- you both are. Even though the truck hit the driver's side, if there had been a car coming the other way, you could have found yourself sandwiched between them." Relief flooded her as soon as the words hit her brain, and she watched as the doctor handed Kathleen Tim's backpack and jacket, before excusing himself. Quickly, his mother set the things down before rushing to follow the nurse who'd come to take her to see Tim. After checking on Ziva, Rivka took the younger girls to the cafeteria to get coffee and pull the full story out of them; she opted to stay behind.

With a sigh, she glanced at Tim's things before picking up the jacket and bringing it to her nose. She took a deep breath; his scent instantly enveloped her- books, sunshine, and that smell that was distinctly him-

_Guys have that... have such a wonderful smell about them._

Unable to help herself, she pulled the jacket on, feeling as though he were wrapping her in a hug. It was big on her, way too big- which was understandable, because Tim was taller than her; tall and thin, thanks to the early morning runs he went on, that she often joined- and yet, it didn't bother her. As she stuffed her hands into the pockets and then brought them out to adjust it on her shoulders, something fell to the floor.

Quickly, Ziva knelt down, snatching it up. A folded piece of paper, that, once opened, revealed a letter of some kind.

Massachusetts Institute of Technology

Cambridge, Massachusetts

Admissions Office

Right below the date, was a sentence that made her heart stop.

_Dear Timothy, _

_On behalf of the Admissions Committee, it is my pleasure, to offer you admission to the MIT class of nineteen-ninety-eight..._

Tears began to well in her eyes, as the reason Tim had been acting strange suddenly made sense.


	6. Chapter 6

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

Ziva kept her mouth shut about the letter for a month.

And once the month was gone, the McGee household had blown up.

All because the idiot woman at the Admissions Office called the house, wanting to know if Tim had sent his transcripts over, and Kathleen had answered. Tim and Ziva had been sitting at the kitchen table studying, at the time. After hanging up, Kathleen had called John and told him, asking him to come home, that there was a matter they needed to discuss with their son and that it was urgent.

And once she'd hung up the phone, for the second time that day, she'd wheeled on Tim. And demanded to know what was going on, and yelled at him, and he'd yelled back-

And then John, receiving Kathleen's message, had gotten home.

And the mother of all parent-teenager blowups began.

Yelling, screaming, crying, glass breaking and plates shattering, doors being slammed and threats to call the cops had been made. Everything and anything, including physical-

_"So yes, I applied t' MIT behind yer backs, bu' I only did it t' get away from you!" _

Ziva sat at the kitchen table, staring at her math homework, keeping silent. She winced, her hands between her knees to keep from jumping between them and getting involved in a fight that wasn't hers to be involved in. She and her parents had fought before- it wasn't uncommon for teenagers to fight with their parents- but nothing over something as silly as this. And in all honesty, she'd been hoping that she and Tim could go to Tel Aviv University together, but now-

The knots in her stomach returned, and she whimpered softly. It seemed, that before the car accident, Tim had been pulling further and further away from her, but now, with this news that he could go to the States- or back to the States as it were, since his father was American- and go to an American college- one of the most prestigious technical schools in the country, even, and at sixteen- well, it seemed that he was trying to wipe her from his person completely.

He'd even started dating Deena, Ziva's best and_ only_ girlfriend. She and Tim had known the Bashans since they were children; when the_ Da_vids moved to Tel Aviv, they'd lived right across the hall from the Bashans, so Ziva had spent a lot of time with Deena, when she wasn't with Tim. Deena was older than Ziva by a month, something that irked the oldest_ Da_vid daughter to no end, but to now have her_ dating_ Ziva's best friend-

Although, in some sick, twisted way, it made sense. They were both older than her, even if it was only by a few months; they both liked the same things and even though they had small arguments now and then, like every couple did, they almost always made up after. So Ziva really shouldn't have minded that her two best friends were dating.

Until Deena had spilled the beans about their date over the weekend to her during the lunch period that afternoon at school.

Okay, so maybe Ziva shouldn't have been upset to find out that her two best friends had slept together over the weekend. Maybe she shouldn't have let her temper flare when Deena told her about how Tim had taken her out of Tel Aviv to the Be'er Shiva, and that they'd spent the weekend in the small city. _Maybe_ she shouldn't have felt betrayed that Tim had taken Deena to the burned-out, abandoned synagogue she and Tim used to play in as children. And _maybe_ she shouldn't have thrown a _punch_ when Deena told her of how they'd slept together in the back of the eighty-eight Ford Mustang Tim had bought with the money he'd saved up from the job he'd taken the summer before, breaking the girl's nose and knocking her to the floor of the cafeteria in the process.

Maybe Ziva should have just let things go. Because if her friendship with Deena wasn't destroyed by Ziva's own jealousy, it was certainly destroyed now.

Which put Tim in the middle.

And Ziva had seen enough American TV shows to know, that when it came to picking sides, he always-_ always_- picked his girlfriend over his best friend.

Maybe that was why she'd punched Deena. To further sever the ties between her and Tim, so he wouldn't have to choose.

But the thought quickly fled her mind. _Yeah, like that is the reason you broke Deena's nose in three places._

_"I'm no' doin' it anymore! I'm no' gonna play your mind games, Da! I'm not goin' int' th' Navy! I get seasick, you know tha'! I'm goin' t' MIT an' I'm gonna get away from all of you! For good!"_

Ziva looked up as Tim slammed the front door, and after a moment, got up and scrambled after him. "Tim?" He stopped on the stairs, turning back to her.

"What do_ you_ want?" For a moment, she seemed to shrink back, before making her way down to him.

"Do you need to talk?" She bit her lip when he didn't reply. "Do you... want to talk?"

He just shook his head, turning and continuing down the stairs. "I'm goin' to Deena's."

"She is not home." He stopped again, turning back to her. "She is... at the hospital. Getting... getting her nose... fixed."

"What is she doing at the- why is she getting her nose- _what did you do?_" Ziva soon found him running back up the stairs, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her, hard. _"What did you do, Ziva? What the hell did you do to Deena?_"

"Nothing I would not have done to _any other girl you slept with!_" She cried, tears soon flooding her eyes.

"What?"

"You slept with her." She took a deep breath. "Deena was my best girlfriend. My only girlfriend. And you _slept_ with her-"

_"I'm dating her!"_ He replied, saying it slowly so it penetrated her mind. "_Of course we're goin' t' sleep t'gether, we're datin', Ziva! God! Don't you know anything about relationships?_"

She swallowed thickly, seeing her chance as he pulled away. "Tim." He turned back to her.

"_What?"_ His emerald eyes were cold, hurt. Just as she'd been upon hearing about what he'd done with Deena. "What is it, Ziva? Haven't you caused enough trouble in my life already?"

Without a word, she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Their mouths connected, and she drank him in. A moment passed, before he rested his fingers against her waist, responding to her kiss as vigorously as she was. Finally, after only a couple of minutes, she pulled away, meeting his gaze.

_"I love you." _

The breathy confession was soon all that remained of her as Ziva rushed back upstairs towards his apartment and slipped inside to gather her things and give him time to leave so she wouldn't have to face him in the hall again and die of embarrassment when she headed home, slamming the door behind her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to Sazzita for reviewing 4 and 5; Mavis Scarlet and Sazzita for reviewing 6.**

"We need to talk."

They hadn't spoken since Ziva's confession; that had been six weeks ago.

He looked up from his copy of _The Beautiful and the Damned_, not at all surprised to see her standing there. He'd been expecting her to crack for days. Keeping Ziva from something she was passionate about was like trying to keep a fish from water; eventually, it would end up killing her- if she didn't kill it first.

"You_ ruined_ my relationship with Deena; don't you think you've caused enough trouble, _Da_vid?" He asked, returning to his book. Ziva couldn't help the silent twinge of glee that filled her at those words, accompanied by a twist of guilt, which was quickly squashed by the glee. He and Deena had broken up six weeks ago, not long after the kiss on the stairs, and Tim hadn't said a word to Ziva since.

She slammed her hands on the table, making the cup and saucer, as well as patrons nearby jump. "_Will you just listen to me?_ Please?" She whispered the last part, biting her lip. He sighed, shutting his book and setting it on the table.

"Fine. Talk."

"Not here." She replied, shaking her head. He raised an eyebrow. "Please, Tim. I... I am not above begging."

A moment passed, before he grabbed his book and stood, pulling his keys from his jacket pocket. He followed her out to his car, allowing her to scramble into the passenger side before starting it. "Okay, Ziva talk."

"Not here, Tim."

"Then where?"

She swallowed. "The synagogue. _Our_ synagogue." He rolled his eyes, but started the engine and pulled out anyway, leaving the small, hole-in-the-wall cafe in western Tel Aviv and heading for Be'er Sheva. Eventually, they pulled up behind the the ruins of the house of worship and Tim cut the engine, turning to her.

"All right, talk." She glanced at him, before getting out of the car and making her way to the ruins. "Ziva-" After a moment, he followed her.

"Do you remember when we would come here and play as children?" She turned back, going to the car and climbing onto the hood.

"What is so important we had to come all the way out here?" He asked, turning to her. She crossed her legs, the light material of her tan cargos protecting her legs from the heat of the of the car's hood. Out here, in the desert of Israel, with the heat rising from the desert floor, and the sun beating down on them with its own pulse, he couldn't help but think that she looked as though she'd risen from the sand herself. When she didn't say anything, he shook his head, turning back to look around the area they used to call theirs when they were little.

"I meant it, that day."

"Meant what?" He asked, turning back. She watched as he removed the jacket he often wore; it was cooler in Tel Aviv- since it was near the ocean- than Be'er Sheva, which was in the center of the country, so jackets and jeans weren't required often. She reached for it, taking it from him and folding it reverently in her lap.

"That I-" She stopped, unable to say the last two words, for fear they'd lodge in her throat. He sighed.

"Ziva," Slowly, he went to her, leaning on the hood of the car until they were face-to-face. "I love you too." Her face lit up.

"You do?" He nodded.

"Of course. You're my _bes'_ friend. Why wouldn't I?"

She shook her head, upset that he wasn't understanding. "No, Tim I- I did not mean it like that... well, I did... I just..." She took a deep breath. "I want... I wanted you to..."

"To what, Ziva?" She met his gaze, swallowing thickly.

"To be_ my_ first, Tim. Not _Deena's_."

He closed his eyes, and with a shake of his head, spoke. "Ziva, I..." He sighed, his green eyes opening. She waited, holding her breath. "I am no going to sleep with you. You are _not_ going to be my rebound." She sniffled, lowering her head, unable to stop the tears that pricked at her eyes. "God, Ziva-"

"How is that fair? You are my best friend, it should have been me! Not..." She stopped, meeting his gaze. A moment passed, before he joined her on the hood of the car and pulled her into a hug.

"Ziva, you'll find someone who loves you as deeply as I love Deena-"

"No!" She pulled away. "You are broken up! You are not supposed to love her! You are supposed to-" Her lower lip began to quiver, and she turned away, sniffling.

"Ziva, I will always love Deena. She was my _firs'_ major girlfriend. There will always be a place in my_ 'eart_ for her._ Jus'_ like there will always be a place in my _'eart_ for you-"

"Hearts do not have places, Tim." She muttered, crossing her arms. He chuckled.

"It's an American expression, Ziva." He whispered. She tried to ignore him, pulling into herself and rounding her shoulders. At that moment, she didn't care that she was pouting like a child- "It must means that... no matter where I go or what happens, you'll always be with me."

She turned back to him. "But I want to be with you... the way Deena is..."

He shook his head. Clearly, she wasn't understanding a word he was saying. She was his best friend; they had so much history together, so many shared memories, there was no way he'd ever be able to forget her, even if he wanted to. "Ziva-" But before he could finish, her mouth was on his.


	8. Chapter 8

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: This scene is probably way too rushed. I'm starting to rethink posting this chapter... maybe I should just stick to trying to decipher my brother's handwriting for_ Past Lives_.- Licia**

**Thanks to Mavis Scarlet and Sazzita for reviewing 7, and Reader aka Sun Samuri for reviewing 3, 4, 5, 6 and 7.**

_This is wrong. You're kissing Ziva... she's your best friend... _

He pulled away, meeting her gaze, those three little words she'd whispered to him that day coming back to him.

_She loves you... how the fuck could she possibly love you? You're like a brother to her... _

After a moment, she leaned close, kissing him once more before climbing off the hood and taking his hand. She tugged until he joined her, and then proceeded to lead him away from the mustang, determined to find somewhere else to-

He stopped and she turned back to him. He shook his head, pulling away from her, but Ziva tightened her grip, meeting his gaze and tugging to get her to follow. The last thing she wanted was to share her first time with Deena- so the mustang would have to wait for them back behind the ruins of the synagogue. They wandered through the abandoned part of Be'er Sheva. Eventually, Ziva stopped, tugging him closer. "Tim, look." She pointed, and he shook his head, knowing what she wanted, and determined not to give it to her.

"No."

She turned to him."Oh come on, no one is using it!" She rushed towards the vehicle, tugging him behind her. "I think someone abandoned it-"

"A_ weapons' carrier_? Ziva, are you_ insane_?" But even as he spoke, he watched her climb into the back before she reached out and took his hand, tugging him inside. "God knows what's in this, there could be-"

"Would you just_ shut up_ and get in here, Timmy?" She demanded, pulling him close. It wasn't so much a truck as a tank- an _IDF Achzarit_ to be exact- rusting and abandoned at the end of the Yom Kippur War, the weapons stored in it taken when the war ended, leaving space enough to spend the night. Ziva tossed Tim's jacket onto the floor for meager cushioning before pushing him onto his back and climbing into his lap, her mouth finding his.

"Ziva, wait-"

"What?" She met his gaze, and he sighed, shaking his head.

"I can't do this. You... you're my_ bes'_ friend. The _las'_ thing I want _t'_ do is destroy our friendship-"

"We will not ruin it, Tim. Our friendship will be _stronger_-"

"_Ziva-_"

"Because we will be together-" He sat up, gently moving her from his lap. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair, glancing at his shoes. She nodded, pulling her legs under her as she suddenly realized something. "You do not really want to be with me, do you?"

"It's not that-"

"Then you want to be with Deen again... because she is like you. No longer a virgin." Though she tried, she was unable to keep the bitterness and hurt out of her voice.

"It's _no'_ a _ques'ion_ of virginity, Ziva." He replied, voice soft.

"Then what is it, Tim? You have protection, I know you do, you are cautious with everything..." She stopped, meeting his gaze. "She... did not give you any diseases, did she? Because if she did, I will kill her-"

"Ziva! It's not that, it's _jus'_..." He sighed, twisting the ring he wore. "_'tis_ a big step,_ sleepin' t'gether_. I don't want_ ye t'_ regret it-"

"How can I regret it, when it will be with you? Tim,_ please_. I want to." She moved closer, climbing into his lap, sliding her arms around his neck. "I am ready, I swear I am. I... I want you to be my first... please, Tim... I want to be with you." She met his gaze, brushing her fingers over his cheeks. "I love you."

After everything they'd gone through- after how he'd withheld the acceptance letter from MIT from her, after he'd gotten involved in a relationship with Deena without considering her feelings... after all of it, she was still his best friend, still willing to be around him, no matter how annoyed she made him. She was still his best friend...

He sighed, and after a moment, pressed a soft kiss to her lips, finally mouthing the words to her. A smile came to Ziva's face; she was positively giddy.

Clothing soon began coming off; slowly, casually, as they took their time, allowing the feelings they'd been harboring for one another for years slowly come to the surface. As Ziva allowed Tim to tug her shirt over her head, she felt her heart begin to speed up as he returned his hands to her waist; their mouths met, deep, hot kisses penetrating every fiber of her being. He tugged the tie from her hair, moving to tangle his fingers in the silky strands he'd loved since they were children.

Slowly, gently, they shifted until she lay beneath him; his eyes never left hers as she allowed him to unbutton and unzip her cargos, sliding them slowly down her body. He pulled away, drinking her in as she lay beneath him in nothing but her bra and underwear. Though he'd known Ziva since they were children, it always amazed him at how... stunning she was. She may have possessed the same dark skin and eyes and olive complexion everyone in Israel did, but there was something different about her- something... unique. She wasn't_ exactly_ like other girls. If anything, she was... exotic. He chuckled inwardly. An ordinary Israeli girl like Ziva... an exotic beauty?

"What?" She sat up, glancing down at herself. "Am I not... pleasing enough for you, Tim? I know I am not... like Deena, but..."

He rested a finger to her lips, silencing her before she embarrassed herself. "Shh. Ziva, you're perfect." She pressed a soft kiss to his finger, before helping him out of his jeans. Her hands moved over the hem of his boxers, but her grabbed her wrist, meeting her gaze. "We_ shou'dn't_ be _doin'_ this, Ziva-"

She sighed, reaching up to grab his chin. "You rebel all the time, Tim. You and Sarah. Did you ever consider, that maybe I want to rebel too?" She caught his mouth in hers, sliding her arms around his neck. Soon, their undergarments came off, and Tim pulled away. Ziva pushed herself to her elbows, watching as he removed the condom wrapper from the back pocket of his jeans. For some reason, he'd grabbed it today before leaving the house and slipped it into his pocket, not entirely sure why-

He met Ziva's gaze, and it suddenly became clear why. Ziva was determined to do this; if anything, he'd better follow along or she'd never stop pestering him.

Their mouths met in hungry kisses, and slowly, carefully, Tim pressed against her. "I'm so sorry, Ziva. I don't mean_ t'_ hurt you-" She nodded, hissing softly as he broke her, her nails dug into his back, leaving small crescent indents into his skin. As they soon found a steady rhythm, Ziva let herself relax and enjoy the experience.

No, she couldn't imagine doing this with anyone but Tim.

Their mouths met again, tasting and teasing and joining as their bodies were, the heat from the desert sands outside nothing compared to the heat they were creating within the carrier. Eventually, their cries mingled and they reached for each other as orgasm took over-

When they finally collapsed together, Tim shifted, being careful not to crush her as he shifted onto his back on the floor of the carrier. Catching her breath, Ziva snuggled close, content as she lay her head on his chest. The erratic beat of his heart matched hers, and she sighed, relaxed. He slid an arm around her, holding her to him. They lay in silence for several minutes, before she shifted onto her elbow. "Why did you hide it from me?"

He met her gaze. "Hide what?"

"The letter. From... MEC..."

"MIT." She nodded.

"Right. Why did you hide it from me, Tim? Do you not trust me?"

He sighed, folding his hands behind his head and staring at the ceiling. "I never actually though' I'd get in."

"What?" He glanced at her.

"I applied _a'_ the start of this school year... didn't think they'd _ac'ually_ accept me. _'twas_ a complete shock when I_ go' th'_ letter_ sayin'_ I _go'_ in."

"So... you hid it because you were surprised?"

A moment passed, before he took a deep breath. "Partially. And then... it seemed like... no one _wou'd_ care if I _lef'_ for school... I figured... if I _go'_ in and returned _t' th'_ states, then... by the time I stepped off _th'_ plane at JFK _Airpor'_, no one here _wou'd_ even _no'ice_ I was gone."

"Oh, Tim..." He glanced at her. "I would have noticed." He snorted softly.

"No, _ye wou'dn't 'ave,_ Ziva."

"How can you say that? Of course I would have. I... I would have... wondered where you had gone, and... if you had gotten hurt... and... gone looking for you." She lay back down, resting her head on his chest. "I love you, Tim. I would miss you, if you went away."

Taking a deep breath, he pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her head.


	9. Chapter 9

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: What Ari gives Tim is something Zani owns.- Licia**

_Tel Aviv, _

_Israel _

_1996_

"Must you go, Tim?"

He sighed, wrapping his arms tighter around her waist. "My_ fligh'_ is already booked, Ziva. My classes are _se'_ and they're_ expectin'_ me on campus for the start of _th' _summer term. I _'ave t'_ go."

Since Tim had graduated early- the following week- everyone had resigned themselves to the fact that he was returning to the States. All previous arguments were being swept under the rug in the wake of Tim's firm decision to go to MIT. And instead of starting in the fall, like he normally would, he'd start not classes with the summer term, to get him situated and used to the west again. For the first couple of days, he'd be staying with his grandmother, Penny Langston, while he got his paperwork and everything situated, before moving into the dorms on campus.

Everyone had taken Tim's leaving in stride, but Ziva had taken it hard- harder than Sarah even. And Sarah had spent the entire night before in her brother's bed, wrapped in his arms, sobbing. The last thing Sarah wanted was for her big brother to go away and leave her behind.

"No. Call them. Tell them you change your mind." He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the Israeli's head.

"I can't. _An'_ even if I could, I_ wou'dn't_. I want_ t'_ go, Ziva. You'll be fine. We'll talk_ ev'ry_ day. I promise."

"But-"

"Zivaleh, let Tim breathe."

Slowly, she turned as her older brother- well, half-brother, Ari, stepped forward. Ari was ten years older than Ziva and Tim, and had looked after them when he was a teenager; though Ari couldn't stand most Americans, he was quite fond of Tim and his sister, and even Kathleen and John- to an extent. Despite the views the majority of Americans held in regards to the Israeli-Palestine conflict, the McGees looked on both sides as a people in dire need of reconciliation, not two countries in need of foreign-led war. And he had watched how close his younger sister and the oldest of the McGee children had gotten; silently, he approved the match, even if his parents weren't particularly concerned with matching Ziva up with someone. In Ari's eyes, she'd _already_ found the person she was destined to spend the rest of her life with- even if neither of the teens knew or remembered it.

Ari held out a hand. _"Behatzlacha_, Tim." The younger man grinned, accepting the handshake.

"_Toda_." Ari nodded to him, impressed at how quickly the younger man was speaking like an Israeli. He remembered when they'd first met, how much trouble Tim had had, trying to get his tongue around the foreign words.

"I have something for you." Ari then pulled out a small box wrapped in brown paper. He held it out to Tim, who glanced at everyone else and then took it. "I was in Ireland for a short time, and saw this in a small shop in... Derry, I believe is what they call it... and thought of you."

"Londonderry?" Tim asked, meeting Ari's gaze. The older man nodded. "The Bogside?"

"Yes, I think that is what the locals called it."

Giving him a quick smile, Tim quickly undid the paper and lifted the lid of the gift box. His mouth dropped. "What is it? Timmy?" Sarah rushed to him, to peek. After a moment, Tim slowly lifted the object out of the tissue paper, holding it up for everyone to see.

It was a beautiful plaque cast in resin, with a beautiful trinity knot carved out of the top, of which the plaque was carved into below it. Upon the resin, was a blessing in beautiful, black script. He quickly read the blessing to himself, a smile tugging at his features when it rang familiar.

_'May the road rise to meet you._  
><em>May the wind be always at your back.<em>  
><em>May sun shine warm upon your face &amp; rains fall soft upon your fields.<em>  
><em>And until we meet again, May God hold you in the palm of His hand.'<em>

"Timmy, it's the same blessing we have in the house!" Sarah cried, and he nodded, silent. Then, without a word, Tim made his way to Ari, holding out a hand.

"Thank you." The older man nodded, before pulling him closer and whispering something in his hear. Ziva watched the interaction, suspicious. Not that she didn't trust her brother, but he was keeping something from her- and Ari hardly ever kept secrets from her, no matter how many years there were between them. Tim nodded, surprised, and slipped the plaque back into the box. There was something else besides the plaque in the box- not that Ziva would ever know what it was, now with Tim leaving for college.

Eventually, the others all excused themselves to give him some space, all except Ziva, who stayed. She went to him, sliding her arms around his waist. "No tears, Ziva. We'll still talk. I promise, I'll call _ev'ry_ day."

She sniffled, meeting his gaze. "I do not want you to go." She whispered, the sudden realization that her best friend was leaving hitting her full in the face. "You are my..." She bit her lip, unable to say what she was thinking. Instead, she turned her gaze to his arms, reaching down and taking his hand. The ring he wore on his left hand glinted in the light- it was familiar, but she couldn't remember where she'd seen it, only that hers was almost an exact replica. "Please, Tim, stay-"

He smiled softly, reaching up to caress her cheek. Then, without a word, he caught her lips in a kiss, pulling her close.

_"All passengers boarding Flight two-fourteen for America-"_ He pulled away.

"That's me. I better go." She nodded, throwing her arms around him and holding him close, trying to memorize everything about him- his feel, his taste, his smell. He nuzzled his nose in her hair, breathing in her scent. Then, he pressed a quick kiss to her mouth before doing the same to her forehead. _"I love you."_ The words were soft, meant for her and her alone.

He pulled away, grabbing his carry-on and joining the others boarding the flight. As he stepped into the terminal, he turned back, giving them all a quick smile and a wave, before turning. They watched, all of them, until he disappeared around the corner, but Ziva could no longer see him even before that, for the tears in her eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: The death of Omayra Sanchez was one of the cases we had to study when I was taking medical classes at college- we had to take the facts that we knew about the disaster, the various injuries one could receive from such a disaster as a volcano eruption and mudslide, and using those facts and the footage, determine_ what_ happened to her/_what_ organ damage she'd suffered/_what_ diseases would set in from her extended stay in the muddy water/exactly _from what_ she would die of/and_ what_ was possibly causing the bloating and whiteness of her skin and the blackness of her eyes.**

** I remember watching the video footage taken of Omayra, and honestly, there's only one thing I _really_ truly remember about that day in class- that the video made me absolutely sick to my stomach- because, even if you didn't know the facts, you _knew_ that she was going to die.- LIcia**

**Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samuri for reviewing 8 and 9.**

_Cambridge,_

_Massachusetts__,_

_1997_

"Hey Penny."

Penelope Langston looked up as her grandson slipped into the kitchen of the brownstone. "Timothy, sweetheart, I didn't hear you come in!" He accepted the hug as his grandmother rushed to him; with his classes taking precedence- especially since he'd been doing double the work and taking online lectures at John Hopkins in Baltimore- there hadn't been much time for him to stop by and visit. But since he was graduating that winter from MIT- a year early- he'd have a little more time; not enough to go back to Israel to visit his family, where Sarah was finishing up school and going to attend university, but time enough to catch his breath before he moved to Baltimore to get his degree in bio-medical engineering.

Penny was John McGee's mother- her first husband, Samuel, John's father, had been a photographer and journalist for National Geographic- he'd been in Columbia when the Armero earthquake hit back in eighty-five, killing twenty-two thousand. He had been the one to film the now-famous video footage of Omayra Sánchez, the thirteen-year-old girl who'd gotten pinned under the debris of her home, and later died after fifty-five hours in the water.

The photograph, taken by French reporter Frank Fournier, a good friend of Samuel and Penny's, showed the child with white hands, a bloated face and black eyes due to internal bleeding; the image sickened those around the world, and the footage Samuel had captured of the child, of her soft voice and silent courage, later drove him to suicide. Though Penny insisted he'd been suffering from depression for years, she knew better; the footage he'd taken of the child, and the guilt over not being able to help her, had driven him to the deserts of Colombia with a handgun and a written apology to her for not having the strength to get past the haunting images captured on his video camera.

In nineteen-eighty-nine, Penny had met and- in a whirlwind romance- married Jason Langston, a professor at Harvard. The two doted on each other, traveling around the world and doing things most grandparents wouldn't even dream of- such as bungee jumping. And when Tim had moved to Cambridge in ninety-six to go to school, they'd delighted in having him over for dinner every couple weekends or so. Tim barely remembered Samuel; to him, Jason had always been his grandfather, not that either Jason or Penny responded to such "old-fashioned terms."

"Come sit, sweetheart! We'll have green tea." She pushed him towards the kitchen table, quickly pouring two cups of tea and setting one in front of him before sitting down. "What brings you here, love? Is school okay?"

"School's fine, Penny."

"And have you talked to your sister? Or your parents?"

"They're doing fine." He replied, sipping his tea.

"And the _Da_vid sisters, have you talked to them?" Tim shrugged; he hadn't had much chance to talk to Ziva with school- though he did manage to e-mail her almost every day, an actual physical phone call was out of the question with his crazy class schedule.

"They're doing good." Penny nodded, gaze moving down to his hands as he cradled the mug against his palms for warmth. Clucking her tongue, she reached out, taking his right hand and pulling it close. She studied it for several minutes, her eyes going over the simple gold band with the small pearl in the center.

"That's a very beautiful ring, Timothy, sweetheart. Where did you get it?"

He pulled his hand away, curling his fingers to be able to study the ring, and furrowed a brow. It was a very beautiful ring... fairly ordinary in its simplicity, but the pearl made it... unique. Kind of like...

"I don't... remember." He whispered. "I've always worn it, for as long as I can remember. Must have... been playing a game with Sarah when we were kids and... used Mom's jewelry..." Penny raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing it.

"Really? You and Sarah were playing with Kathleen's jewelry and she didn't ball either of you out for it?" Tim shrugged.

"Penny, it was... twelve years ago... we probably did get in trouble, but I don't remember it." He glanced at the ring, as his grandmother's voice broke through his thoughts.

"Timothy."

He met her gaze. "What is it now, Penny?"

"You are aware that you're wearing that ring on your right hand."

"So?"

"James wears his ring on the same hand- has since the day we got married." Her grandson raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry... what did you say, Penny?" But before she could say a word, footsteps interrupted her; James entered, on his lunch break, not at all surprised to see his step-grandson having a cup of tea with his wife.

"Hey, Tim, when did you get here?" The younger man looked up; he liked Jason- with his bright blue eyes and ash blonde hair, Jason was a storied intellectual with a thirst for knowledge.

"Half an hour ago." Jason nodded; quickly going through the mail, before stopping. He held a slim envelope out to the younger man. Tim glanced at him, before taking it. "What's this?" He glanced at the envelope, noticing the return address, and his stomach dropped.

_Tel Aviv, Israel_


	11. Chapter 11

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_Tel Aviv, _

_Israel_

_Two Weeks Earlier_

_1997_

She dashed down the street, books held tight to her chest, the sapphire blue _hijab_ she wore having slipped down, catching on the messy bun she'd put her hair into; it dangled off her shoulders. She glanced around, searching for someone, but didn't see who she was looking for. Sighing, she turned back, towards the cafe where they were supposed to meet-

"Tali!" A wave of relief rushed through the teenager as she caught sight of her sister, pulling open the door to the local cafe and rushing out to join her. As soon as she reached her, they were a tangle of arms as the two siblings collided. As she pulled away, Ziva reached up, tugging the blue scarf back into place.

"Did you hear from Ari? Is he back in Iran?" Ziva nodded.

"He is back in Tehran, and was heading to the Children's Hospital when I spoke to him." Tali nodded, glancing over her shoulder. The sisters had spent the last year studying abroad in Iran- Ziva at the University of Tehran and Tali at one of the local high schools, staying with their older brother- mainly so they would be out of the way of the violence brewing within Israel, just as the McGees had sent Sarah across the sea to study in Italy for a while- especially since the girl had been learning Italian. Ari had kept careful watch on the girls, accompanying them out as was custom, and dropping the girls off at Professor Nafisi's home to attend her book club, with several other girls to discuss English literature- the majority of which both Ziva and Tali had been familiar with thanks to their friendship with the McGee siblings.

As soon as they'd arrived in Iran, the sisters had been subjected to horrible, restricting rules- from _chadors_ to hijabs and inspections in regards to makeup, clothing and shoes. So Ari had taken the girls in search of hijabs, for both refused to wear the _chador_. Ari had watched with delight in his eyes as his sisters had searched through various headscarves, picking out colors they liked- eventually, Tali had found the sapphire blue one, and had been content with her choices, but it had taken Ziva a little longer. She hated that they were being shoved into customs that they didn't think about, let alone follow, that they were scrutinized at every turn, and treated as second-class citizens simply because of their gender. After several more minutes of looking, Ziva had stopped, something catching her eye.

The scarf was beautiful- a rich, bright emerald green, made of delicate cotton threads. As she gazed at the scarf, she felt as though she were looking in Tim's eyes. It was soft beneath her fingers, and a twinge of heartbreak had caught her in its grip, as she realized that she may never see him again. Along with a few others, she'd bought the scarf, and for the first few days, hadn't let it out of her sight.

Over the course of the year in Iran, Tali had developed a crush on- and started a relationship with- a young Iranian man who had once been one of Professor Nasifi's youngest students, having started college the year before at sixteen. Though he was a year older than Tali, he was quiet, cautious, focused more on school than any sort of sexual relationship, though he did indeed like Tali, and the two took things slow.

Now that they were back in Tel Aviv, however, Ziva rarely thought of Iran with the exception of Ari, who'd come home the week before for break. And the sisters had taken to wearing the scarves on hot Israeli days, the material protected their heads and skin from the burning sun; and Ziva... well, whenever she wore the green scarf, she felt as though Tim were with her instead of back in America. The girls had tried to find some semblance of normalcy in the last few months- especially since Rivka had been killed in a Hamas bombing up in Ammon. That had left the sisters with their father, who was already beginning to exert a good touch of control over both girls- Ziva had begun training with the Mossad officers, and, like many young men and women of her age in Israel, she had joined _Tzahal_- the IDF as the West knew it.

"Come on. _Tali_!" The girl turned back, seeing the worry in her sister's eyes. "I got a letter from Tim, and he sent something with it." She pulled a small, wrapped package out of her knapsack; the blue ribbon was tied in a neat bow, begging to be untied. "What do you say we open it over coffee and some _hamantash_." The sisters shared a laugh, before heading towards the cafe. But just as they moved to return to the cafe, the building exploded, sending debris, body parts and shrapnel everywhere.

The girls were slammed to the ground by the ripples of the blast; screams and sirens soon filled the air as dust and the smell of death permeated their senses. "Ziva?" Tali pushed herself up, memories of the car crash Tim and her sister had been in nearly three years prior coming back full blast. Ziva moaned softly, slowly pushing herself up. "You are okay-"

"Why would I not be, Tali?" She asked, slowly getting to her feet. She had a cut across her forehead and was covered in dust and smoke, but otherwise okay. Once she as certain her sister was okay, she made her way towards the cafe to help look for survivors.

The _snap!_ of a shotgun blast caused her to turn back-

Her gaze caught Tali's as the younger girl lifted her head, shock in her eyes at the sight of blood exploding from her chest. _"Talia!"_ She rushed back towards her sister, reaching her just as she began to crumble; a couple others rushed to help, and soon, there was a crowd gathered around the quartet, watching as the teenager fell to the ground, bleeding profusely from a bullet to the chest.

"_Tali! Tali, look at me! Tali!"_ Ziva had stumbled to her knees, grabbing the younger girl's shoulders as she began to fall; the others there to help gently lowered her to the cement. Slowly, Tali's gaze moved to the side, meeting her sister's, and her arms fell to rest beside her head as the two men released her to the street beneath her body. _"Tali!"_ Someone began pressing their hands to the teen's chest, another rushed to call for an ambulance, but all Ziva focused on was her sister. _"Tali, listen to me! Tali! You have... to listen to me... you have to stay... stay with me... please... Tali please... do not leave me alone... Tali, stay with me! Stay with me!"_

Slowly, the girl struggled to lift her head, to get up, to raise her arms, but the simple action stole the final breath from her body, and she collapsed, her head softly hitting the ground beneath her. _"Tali, no! Tali, stay with me!"_ Those around the sisters knew it was no use, for not only had her heart stopped, but blood soon began pouring out of her nose and mouth, dripping onto the road and rushing over her open, glazed eyes, their focus forever locked on her older sister.

"I am sorry, but she is dead." But Ziva didn't hear the man who spoke, she only focused on her sister.

_"Tali!"_

Without a second thought, Ziva shifted, pulling her legs beneath her and her sister's body into her arms, holding her against her chest. It was an eerie image, this young woman, cradling the body of her sister in her arms, the young girl's head against her chest, eyes open and blank, blood pouring from her nose and mouth and staining the woman's clothes.

A moment passed, as Ziva shifted her hold on her sister, pulling her closer, removing the green headscarf she wore and using it to wipe the blood from her sister's nose and mouth. To those watching, it was almost as if she were comforting a crying child- something Ziva had done since she was old enough to grasp the meaning of being an older sister.

A prayer soon began to fall from her lips, as heart-breakingly beautiful and tragic as the image of her cradling her sister's lifeless body. She didn't hear the car doors slam or footsteps rush to her, Kathleen's voice, or see Ambassador McGee as he rushed to her. She didn't hear the click of cameras, or even realize, that soon, the photographs of her sister's death and her reaction after the bombing would soon be seen around the world.

She only saw Tali, and her sister's sapphire-colored scarf, soaking up the blood in which her sister's body had lay.


	12. Chapter 12

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_Cambridge, _

_Massachusetts_

With shaking hands, he opened the envelope, pulling out a letter. Slowly, he unfolded it, recognizing Ziva's familiar handwriting. As his eyes began to scan the contents, he sank back into his chair. He'd climbed to his feet, coffee cup in hand, but as soon as the contents of the letter met his gaze, he stopped. His breath caught.

_Tali... dead... bombing... Hamas... gunshot..._

"Tim, what is it?" After a moment, he looked up, to find Penny and Jason watching him. Taking a shaky breath, he forced himself to clear his throat. Suddenly, he couldn't breathe-

"Ah... it's from... Ziva."

"The oldest David girl?" Penny asked. He nodded.

"Yeah. She... said that... she and Tali were... heading to a cafe in downtown Tel Aviv, when it... it exploded and..." He heard Penny gasp. "They were okay, but..." He swallowed thickly. "As soon as Ziva moved to... to help survivors... Tali was shot... died... died in Ziva's arms..."

"Oh dear God. I can't imagine what her parents are feeling-"

"Her father." Tim whispered. "Rivka... Rivka was killed in a bombing in Ammon... a few months ago. God, I..." He set the letter down, running a hand over his face. "I _canna_ imagine _wha'_ she's _goin'_ through." He looked up when Penny took his hand.

"You need to call her." A moment passed, before he nodded. "Give her our sincerest condolences." Without a word, he stood, grabbing the cordless from the wall and slipping upstairs. Once he reached the guest bedroom, he took a seat on the bed, dialing the number with a glance at Ziva's letter. He waited, glancing at the clock on the nightstand.

It was evening, if not midnight or two in the morning in Israel-

Just as he was about to hang up and resolve to call her later in the evening, when it was daylight there, a soft voice answered. "Hello?"

"He... Ziva? It... it's me."

"I was hoping you would call, Tim. I was beginning to think-" She stopped, sniffling. "You got my letter?"

He nodded, even though she couldn't see it. "Yeah, I did. God, Ziva, I'm so sorry, I _canna_ even imag-" He stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose to get his swirling thoughts in order. "Have you had the funeral yet?"

"No. _Abba_ ordered an autopsy... the coroner will give us back her body today and her funeral will be the day after tomorrow." She took a shaky breath. Hearing Tim's voice on the other side of the line gave her a strength she'd been missing since Tali died, but it also brought fresh tears. To have both her mother and- now- her sister dead, Ari in Iran and Tim clear in America- "Please say you will come, Tim."

He sighed, laying back on the bed and staring up at the ceiling. "Ziva, I have classes to-"

"_Please_, Tim. I need you..." A moment passed, before he sighed and got up, heading downstairs and settling in the seat at the desk and quickly pulling up travel plans on Penny's computer. He could feel Jason and Penny's eyes on him, but focused only on Ziva and Tali at the moment. Minutes passed in silence, minutes that Ziva relished, just_ knowing_ he was on the end of the line. Eventually, he spoke.

"All right, I'll be catching the red-eye- well, for me it'll be a red-eye- at about five a.m."

"Okay. I... I will meet you at the airport." She took a deep breath. "Thank you, Tim."

"Don't mention it, Ziva." When they hung up, he sat back in the chair, propping his elbows on the armrests and steep-ling his hands, pressing his index fingers into his forehead. He felt a headache coming on. "Please, don't tell me I've made the wrong decision."

"Oh, sweetheart, you've made the best decision you could. And Ziva... she needs you right now." He turned to her as she took a seat on the sofa.

"I just booked a flight to_ Israel_, Penny-"

"I know." She quickly got up, going to him. "And you did it because Ziva needs you. Tim, she just lost her sister. Put yourself in her shoes. Imagine if you lost Sarah, wouldn't you want her to be there?" He sighed, pulling away and picking up the envelope and letter.

"I know. I just-" But he stopped, when something caught his eye. Slowly, he pulled what appeared to be a couple of newspaper clippings out of the envelope. As he unfolded them, his breath caught, seeing the photographs in the center of the pages. It was evident that the girl sitting on the ground was Ziva, with Tali cradled in her arms. Her beautiful features were twisted in anguish, and he could see blood coating her hands.

Quickly, his eyes scanned the heading; his Hebrew wasn't so bad that he couldn't read the title-

_Unknown Number of Hamas Casualties, as One Survivor Weeps for a Victim_

The second article was a French newspaper, the third, an Italian one... so on and so on, until he finally recognized the familiar heading of the New York Times.

_Violence in Israel Continues; Mass Casualties of Cafe Bombing;_

_Youngest Daughter of Deputy Director of Mossad among Victims _

He swallowed; the photograph turned his stomach as much as the famous photograph of Omayra Sanchez or the footage of her did.

_In the aftermath of a Hamas suicide bombing at a cafe in downtown Tel Aviv, Israel... while both girls were caught in the blast, only Talia, sixteen, the Deputy Director_ Da_vid's youngest daughter, was killed._ _Her older sister, Ziva, eighteen, sustained minor injuries in the bombing that killed over one hundred. A private funeral will be held for Talia..._

He set the clippings down, taking a deep breath. It stunned him, that Tali- sweet, innocent, curious Tali- would lose her life to such violence. Tali wasn't like other girls- she wasn't even like her sister. Not that Ziva wasn't, but she never showed it, unlike Tali, who'd always showed it...

Tali had compassion, deep compassion; the very thing this world needed, and yet, one single, ongoing act of violence, had so cruelly taken that compassion from the earth with Tali's final breath.


	13. Chapter 13

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Zani's refusing to let me anywhere near her wrists... I'm gonna give her some time to calm down and then try talking to her again...- Licia**

_Tel Aviv, _

_Israel_

He was tired; exhausted, really, not that he cared all that much. As he stepped out of the terminal, his gaze searched for a familiar face-

She rushed to him, throwing her arms around his neck once she got close enough, burrowing into his shoulder. They stood together for several minutes, before she pulled away and took his face in her hands, drinking in his features. Her mouth soon met his in a deep, tender kiss, and she rested her forehead to his before wrapping his arms once again around his neck. He slid his arms around her waist, lifting her off the ground and holding her close. "I thought you would never get here."

He squeezed gently, pressing a kiss to her head before setting her down. "Ziva, I'm so-" But she rested a finger to his lips, shaking her head.

"You are tired. And you must be hungry. Come on." She took his hand, leading him to baggage claim and then out to the car her father had sent. As they settled in the backseat, Tim glanced at her.

She had grown up since they'd last seen each other; though they were the same age, she was beginning to lose her girlishness and gain the figure of a woman. Her hair was still the same tangled, curly mass it had always been, but behind her brave countenance was unending sorrow. Slowly, he reached out, taking her hand. She turned at the contact, giving him a small smile.

Eventually, they reached her apartment, and Ziva directed him to the guest room. When he'd told her he'd be there, she insisted he stay with her instead of a hotel, stating that it was cheaper than a hotel, although the real reason was more for the fact that she didn't want to be alone. The apartment had been her Aunt Nettie's, and she'd given it to Ziva as a high school graduation gift, telling her that every girl needed a place of her own. It wasn't very far from her father's apartment, not that Ziva cared.

Once he put his things away, he wandered into the kitchen, finding her fixing coffee. "Do you need some help?" She glanced over her shoulder at him.

"No, I am okay, Tim. But you are tired. Maybe you should lie down-"

"I'm fine, Ziva. I promise. Just... call it shock, I guess. I never..." She went to him, holding out the cup. "I never expected Tali... she had compassion... that's the _only_ way I can think to describe her..."

"She... was the best of us." Ziva whispered, sipping her coffee. Her hands shook, and after a moment, he took the mug from her hands, pulling her into his arms. She slid her own arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder, trying hard not to cry. They stayed like that for several minutes, before Tim pulled away.

"I'm so sorry, Ziva." She nodded, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He could taste the salt from her tears, and gently, he pulled away, brushing the wild curls from her face. "I don't know about you, but I think I might lie down for a while." She nodded. "Care to join me?"

They curled up together in the guest bedroom, wrapped tight around each other like puppies. After a moment, she reached up, brushing her fingers between the gaps in his button-down to rest against his chest; the feel of his heart beneath her fingers brought a comfort she'd been desperate for since Tali died. Slowly, she unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it aside before curling closer and resting her head against his chest, hearing the steady rhythm of his heart in her ear.

And suddenly, it brought back the very real fact that Tali's heart was no longer beating-

She broke down, choking on a sob as she buried herself further in his embrace. Everything she'd been holding back for two weeks came rising to the surface, and she tangled her fingers in his shirt, deep sobs wracking her small body. Tim tightened his hold on her, pressing a soft kiss to her head as he let her cry. She had witnessed her sister's death, had held Tali in her arm as she'd died, had watched the girl take her final breath... she'd witnessed Death first hand, felt its touch as her sister's body grew cold, tasted its kiss as the blood seeped from Tali's body onto her sister's hands.

Ziva was only eighteen. She'd lost her mother and her sister, and, in her mind, she'd lost both Tim and Sarah- and even Ari- as well, leaving her with only her father. In her mind, she had no one else to seek comfort from, no one to tell her that it was okay to grieve Tali's loss...

Tim pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her hair. He could only imagine the pain Ziva was currently in; the horror she'd felt at watching the life drain out of her sister's body. He swallowed; if he had lost Sarah in such a horrific way... he'd never forgive himself. And he was pretty sure that Ziva was feeling the same way. Blaming herself for Tali's death, when she hadn't even remotely been the cause. If anything, the girl's death was a terrifying, absolutely devastating accident.

But then again, Tim didn't know the facts, other than what Ziva had told him she'd witnessed.

When her sobs finally calmed, she pulled away, meeting his gaze. He brushed his knuckles against her cheek; she caught his hand, pressing a firm kiss to his palm as tears slid down her cheeks.


	14. Chapter 14

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Sorry it took so long to get this back up, guys. Ev and I took a few days and went down to San Fran to visit friends. Zani's still with Mom; from the call we got from Mom yesterday, Zani's not even talking to_ her_- which is a shock, cause Mom never shuts up, and is able to get _everyone_ to talk- but she at least let Mom examine her wrists (Mom worked as a Nurse in the local mental hospital for years, so she's familiar with 'people like Zani' as she often says), which is more than anyone else has been able to do in the last few months.- Licia**

**A/N: I'm sorry, this chapter is probably really weak. I don't mean it to be. **

**Thanks to Sazzita for reviewing 12 and 13, amiebeca and sinjita2001 for reviewing 13, and Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 10, 11, 12 and 13.**

The soft feel of something brushing against his cheek roused him from his slumber, and after a moment, his green eyes opened to reveal the object of his minor irritation. He raised his arms over his head, stretching, allowing the muscles and joints in his body to shift and pop with the languid movement. She propped herself on her elbow, watching silently as he stretched, gaze following the smooth movement of every plane of his body. At eighteen, he was tall and slender, and as pale as a ghost.

But she attributed that to the fact that he had yet to spend some real time in the Israeli sun.

Silent, she reached out, brushing a hand over his chest, trailing it over his pecs and down his stomach. Her fingers splayed across the firmness of his abs, and after a moment, she leaned over, capturing his lips in a soft kiss. "_Boker tov_." He studied her features, whispering it back to her. A tiny smile flitted across her face; his Hebrew was rusty, but understandable. She kissed him again, distracting him as her pinkie dove into the curve of his navel, scraping gently against the sensitive skin before she pulled away and slid her hand further down. He grabbed her wrist, meeting her gaze.

"It's your sister's funeral today, Ziva."

"It is four in the morning, Tim. Tali's..." She stopped, swallowing thickly. "It is not until ten." She pulled her hand out of his and shifted, moving until she was perched on his stomach. "I do not think Tali will mind." She leaned down, brushing a soft kiss to his lips. "We did it last night... please, Tim. I... I need to know that... that I am not alone..." He reached up, taking her face in his hand.

"You're never alone, Ziva. You've never been alone."

They spent two hours making love and then got up, taking a long, hot shower together. It was then that the realization of what was going to happen today hit her, and she broke down, holding onto him as her grief took control.

Afterwards, the four young adults gathered at Ziva's place, and over coffee, discussed everything except what had gone on that morning. The funeral had been small, private; just family and close friends- Sarah had returned from Italy, and their parents were also in attendance. Everyone Tali loved most was there to tell her goodbye. Ziva had stood with Ari and her father, the last of her family, holding tight to her brother's hand, tears brimming in her eyes.

But now, she sat on the sofa in her apartment, curled into Tim's side, as melancholy as the McGee siblings had ever seen her. She hadn't said a word since the funeral, and Ari was afraid that the darling little girl he'd loved and protected for years was gone. "Tim, can we talk?" A moment passed, as the oldest McGee sibling struggled to disentangle himself from Ziva; she clung tighter, but it was with a soft kiss and a promise that he'd be back that finally got her to let go. Once he was up, Sarah quickly took his place, cuddling with the older girl.

Once they were in the kitchen, Tim turned to the older man. Ari had since gotten his degree at Edinburgh College in Scotland, and had spent some time working in England before returning to Israel to work in the camps along the Gaza strip. He studied the younger man before him. Tim had grown up in the two years since he'd been in the States; he'd gotten taller, filled out a little more, gained a confidence that no one was aware he'd been lacking. "_Wha'_ did _ye wanna_ talk_ 'bout_?"

Ari chuckled softly; it always amused him how Tim's accent came out when he was stressed or nervous. A moment passed, before he poured a couple cups of coffee, setting one in front of Tim. The younger man thanked him, wrapping his hands around it. They stood in silence for several minutes before Ari cleared his throat, causing Tim to look up. "Thank you, for coming back, Tim."

The young American nodded, taking sip of his coffee and then setting the cup down. "I just... wish it were under better circumstances." He swallowed, slowly meeting Ari's gaze. "Do you know how-"

"She was shot." Ari whispered, the warmth in his voice thickened with sadness. "From what Zivaleh said, she... she survived the bombing and then... it struck her heart and pierced her lung, she bled out." Tim forced himself to swallow. "She did not deserve such a horrific way to die." A moment passed, before he gave Tim a small, quick smile. "You take care of her, Tim."

The younger man furrowed a brow, sipping his coffee. "Who?"

"Ziva. She needs you now, maybe more than ever."

Tim glanced back towards the living room. "I have to go back to the states in the next couple of days, Ari. I have to finish school, I can't stay here, much as I would want to." Ari nodded, but grabbed Tim's wrist as he moved to return to the living room. Tim turned back, confused.

"Listen to me, Tim. You need to take care of my remaining sister. She needs you. And she's going to need you a lot more later on in life."

"I'll always take care of Ziva, Ari. But I can't do that as a university stu-" Ari pulled him close.

"Once you finish your studies and Ziva goes to America, then you look out and protect her. Because that is what a good husband does."

Tim stiffened, as Ari released his wrist and returned to the living room.


End file.
